


Bareknuckle

by SquishyTaeyong



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, M/M, Streetfighter!Kihyun, Streetfighting AU, nurse!wonho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-04-07 04:12:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19077244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquishyTaeyong/pseuds/SquishyTaeyong
Summary: Yoo Kihyun is a street-fighter. He likes his bouts underground, bareknuckled, and lawless. He’s never thought of doing anything else: fighting is the one thing that he knows he’s good at.That is until he meets Hoseok, a local nursing student with a radiantly warm heart.Falling head over heels is easy. Explaining to his new boyfriend why he always comes home covered in blood, is not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic for Mx! I’m excited ^-^  
> A small warning before we go ahead: I have tagged this fic as including graphic descriptions of violence to be safe. To be honest I don’t really consider the fighting to be graphic, but there are frequent references to blood or injury so please be aware of that!  
> Please support my first fic for the fandom I’m very excited to be here <3 May x

   ‘ _1 - 2 - 3 -_ ’

   Kihyun didn’t need to wait for the count.

   He stepped back, already unfurling his fist to stretch out the fingers on his right hand gingerly. A shot of pain seized down through his wrist, and he quickly returned the hand to its previous position - there would be time to assess the damage later.

   He kept the floored man in the corner of his vision, well aware that you should never turn your back on an opponent, but he knew that the fight was over. This was just a formality. His adversary had been another one of those who underestimated him, who saw his size and thought that he could crush him by virtue of nothing but a few extra centimetres and brute strength. They never factored in skill, speed, or the fact that Kihyun was _scrappy_.

   He very much _refused to lose_.

   And that was useful for the betting which funded the whole ring; strangers from out of town never seemed to put their money on Kihyun.

   _Idiots._

   When Hyunwoo’s voice bellowed that the fight was officially done, Kihyun started pushing his way through the crowd before he had even finished his sentence. He didn’t stick around for the acclaim anymore.

   As he shoved his way through, people cheered, hands slapping down on his back. A group that he recognised from a few nights ago had started up a chant: _KI-HYUN! KI-HYUN! KI-HYUN!_

   Nobody made any attempt to stop him on his warpath - even tanked up on alcohol and the rest, no-one could be that stupid.

   ‘Alright, Kihyun-hyung?’ said the boy who manned the entry booth these days. ‘You were great out there.’

   ‘Always am,’ Kihyun shrugged, before softening his face a little.

   Changkyun meant well. The kid had been working here a few weeks now, invited along by his distinctly unsavoury uncle. Kihyun knew for a fact that he was still at school because he’d seen him stuffing his blazer into his bag in a panic one afternoon, a couple of weeks earlier.

   ‘Maybe soon I’ll be out there taking you on,’ Changkyun beamed, admiration in his eyes.

   _Over my dead body_ , Kihyun thought.

   Far be it from him to judge a kid for working here - he had been brought into the fold even younger himself - but that didn’t mean he was gonna let some seventeen-year-old into the ring with him.

   Luckily, he was confident that Hyunwoo would agree.

   ‘I’d crush you like a twig,’ Kihyun said, but he was smiling.

   ‘Would not! I’m already as tall as you.’

   ‘If you go into a fight thinking about size, you’ve already lost.’

   ‘Here,’ said Changkyun, scrambling under his small desk as though he’d just remembered something important, but really Kihyun knew that it was because he’d turned red and wanted to look down just long enough for the flush to subside. He emerged with a brown parcel, taped shut, Kihyun’s name printed across the front of it.

   Changkyun might have forgotten. Kihyun hadn’t.

   It was the only reason that he’d let this conversation roll on for so long.

   He took his earnings quickly, then the duffel bag that the kid passed over to him. He tucked the envelope into the side pocket of his bag, taking out his jacket and shrugging it on, wincing a little as his wrist gave another spasm of disapproval.

   ‘Are you alright?’

   ‘What? Oh, yeah,’ he said absentmindedly. ‘Never better.’

   ‘Your nose is bleeding.’

   _Is it_? He reached up and wiped away the trickle of blood from his nostril. He hadn’t noticed. ‘Don’t look so worried - I’ve had worse.’

   ‘See you tomorrow?’

   ‘I don’t work Sundays, kid,’ he reminded him, shouldering his bag. If this wrist was as battered as he thought it was, he wasn’t sure he’d be working at all for a while. He pushed the nagging thought to the back of his mind.

   ‘Monday then?’ urged Changkyun.

   ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘See you around.’

   The biting cold of winter was an assault on his bruised skin. Flurries of snow assaulted his face the second he exited the warehouse. He knew that it would start to numb him soon, but the moments that it took to reach that stage were cutting. As he headed off down the dirt track towards the nearest bus station which would take him back into the centre of the city, he trailed his hand beneath his nose again to check for more blood.

   He rarely noticed things like that anymore. Pain and injury were familiar in a way to him that meant they barely registered in his mind. He had to be careful, though, because if there were police around, they were likely to stop him if they saw him with blood on his face. Kihyun had already had one too many run-ins with them to promote his chances of another one.

   He stopped somewhere down the path and dropped his bag to the ground, with the intent of rummaging through it for a hoodie to conceal at least some of his face, but when he tugged the zipper, his wrist reminded him of its condition with brutal antagonism. ‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he cursed. As he looked down at his hand, he flexed his fingers to examine his knuckles at the same time.

   They were red raw, and they were bleeding.

   He abandoned his hoodie plan and lifted his bag over his shoulder again. He took the rest of the track at a light jog, suddenly eager to get to the bus as soon as possible. They did not run all night, but there were one or two an hour until _very_ late that he could usually catch his luck on.

  He knew for a fact that he was going to have to stop in at the all-night pharmacy down the road, because he’d finished up the last of his peroxide the previous week and he didn’t like the thought of what could get into cuts at the sorts of places he frequented.

   Apart from getting paid, this night had turned out to be almost more trouble than it was worth.

   Kihyun turned down his face against the snow and did not look up until he was under the shelter of the familiar bus station. It was an unpleasant place, run down like the rest of the local area. This wasn’t the kind of place where the councils invested their money. Tourists didn’t venture out this far, and therefore in the eyes of the city government, it did not require improvement.

   Everything was exposed metal and dented plastic.

   Kihyun dropped down onto a broken seat, because he knew that it was the _least_ broken of the three in that line, and pulled out his phone. There was a crack down the middle. He had the money to replace it but recently he hadn’t seemed to have the time. He was taking on more and more fights, because the more money that he got, the more he wanted. It didn’t seem to matter to him that he never had time to spend it.

   He opened his messages, more for something to do that for the sake of interest, and he paused when a droplet of blood landed on the screen.

   His nose was still bleeding.

   He wiped it with his sleeve. He wasn’t worried about staining his jacket. Anyone in his profession knew that blood wasn’t so difficult to wash out of clothes, so long as you knew how to treat it properly.

   ‘Alright?’

   Kihyun looked up at the voice and went to conceal his knuckles, but the man was familiar. He was one of the local bus drivers, and one of the only ones that worked these late hours. He was used to Kihyun, and used to seeing him covered in blood. ‘Yeah,’ he nodded, ‘alright?’

   The driver nodded too and exhaled a stream of smoke. Any time that he wasn’t in his vehicle, there was a super-king-size cigarette between his fingers.

   ‘How long?’ asked Kihyun. His bus was parked just across the lot, but he’d known better than to approach it. They never stayed idle for too long; the lights would eventually sputter into life and the bus would swing by dutifully to pick him up when it was ready.

   The driver shrugged and glanced at his watch. ‘How long do you want to wait?’

   ‘Actually, I could do with getting home early. Gotta drop by the store.’

   ‘Early ended a long time ago,’ the driver remarked, but he dropped down his cigarette and stamped it out. ‘But let’s go. It’s cold as fuck. And you’re the only person I ever pick up at this time anyway.’

*

   Kihyun was often the only person around – the only one on the bus, the only one in the store at 3am, the only one in the bank’s low security safe deposit room. He rented a box there, because people didn’t ask questions. Kihyun was alone a lot simply because he operated on different hours to most people.

   He never got up before midday. He never went out until the evening. And he never got home until the early hours of the morning.

   Sure enough, as he slipped inside the pharmacy, there was no one else around. The front of the store glowed green by the light of the neon sign hung outside, but towards the back the light was duller. One of the overhead lamps was on the verge of giving out. Behind the counter, there was not a single member of staff. Kihyun couldn’t help but think that if he was the sort of person to rob a pharmacy (he was not), it could not have been easier.

   He wandered the aisles, picking out rather more items than he had gone in looking for. His first aid box was on a constant cycle of use, so it made sense to pick things up when he had the chance. Kihyun looked at medical supplies the way that others might look at the candy aisle: with interest, and even excitement when he saw a new product that might be useful to him.

   Just because he was a thug, or so people thought of him, that did not mean that he did not take care of himself.

   He picked out a box of knuckle plasters and narrowed his eyes at the price label. Prices only ever went up, never down.

   When he turned around to go and announce his presence at the counter, he almost crashed headlong into –

   A stranger.

   A stranger who he had not heard enter the store.

   Luckily, his reflexes were trained to the utmost degree, and therefore he dodged back before they could collide. His impressive reaction time didn’t stop the stranger giving an almost _squeak_ of surprise, though. The sound didn’t look like it came from him, because it seemed too high. It nearly made Kihyun smile.

   ‘Sorry!’

   ‘No problem,’ Kihyun shrugged. Usually he would have turned away in a second, but he wanted to take just a second to get a full appraisal of the stranger, the stranger who was out at _such_ an unreasonable hour.

   He was, Kihyun supposed, appealing to look at.

   ‘It was my bad anyway,’ Kihyun added.

   That was another thing that people were always surprised at, about him. That he was polite. Kihyun didn’t have much to thank his parents for – his father was a deadbeat and a mean drunk, and his mother was the sort of parent who let her teenage son out to fight in order to bring home cash for cigarettes – but somewhere down the line, one way or another, they had managed to teach him manners.

   He looked the stranger up and down. He was probably a little taller than him, but the range was so small that Kihyun’s deeper-soled shoes made up the difference, and maybe broader in the shoulders but it was hard to tell because he was wearing a puffy coat. The zipper was undone, so Kihyun could glimpse a simple blue button-down shirt in a cheap material that had to mean it was for work; at his chest pocket there was a pink fob watch.

   The clothes weren’t as important as the face though, so Kihyun concentrated there.

   Yes, he was _appealing._

His hair was jet black, and damp from the snow that had melted in with the heat of the store. Very quickly, though, Kihyun found his gaze wandering down to his lips. They were full, plush, pale from the cold outside but still dangerously desirable.

   Oh yeah: _restraint?_ Not one of Kihyun’s strong points. When he liked something or someone, he tended to make it known pretty fast.

   If it wasn’t three am, and if he wasn’t sporting bloodied knuckles, he’d probably have pursued a couple of hours of _fun_ from this moment onward. He could be outrageously charming when he needed to be, and in his experience, guys with smiles as bright as this one weren’t averse to a secret bit of rough.

   The smile _was_ big, but it didn’t match the words that came from his lips. Still, it was a nice excuse for Kihyun to turn his gaze back there. ‘Your nose is bleeding.’

   ‘Fuck, yeah, I know,’ Kihyun muttered, and he quickly dabbed at his nose again.

   _Great_. Just what he needed in this moment.

   ‘And your hand.’

   Kihyun shoved his curled-up fist into his pocket and grimaced. ‘It’s not a big deal. I’m good.’

   There was a second of awkward quiet, and then the stranger announced: ‘I’m Hoseok!’

   Kihyun felt the corners of his lip twitch towards a smile. ‘Kihyun,’ he answered quietly. ‘What brings you here so late?’ All thoughts of getting home quickly had vanished. Now was not the time to be flirting, but he couldn’t help himself. Those lips were irresistible. Fuck his bloody nose and the hour – he could still give it a go.

   ‘I just finished my shift! I’m training at the hospital. I need to pick up blister plasters because my new shoes are - ’

   ‘Training?’ Kihyun grinned, not listening to the rest. He looked away for a second only to pick up a box of microporous tape and add it to his bundle of wares. ‘You gonna be a doctor?’

   ‘A nurse,’ said Hoseok. ‘You should – you should probably have someone take a look at that hand. And your face. You’re… bruising up pretty badly.’

   Kihyun cursed again internally, and his hand immediately went up to conceal part of his face, but that did not help at _all_ when the blood on his knuckles was just as bad. Why oh _why_ had he had to run into a handsome stranger _right_ after a fight? With that in mind, he vaguely registered that his wrist was twinging again and his muscles were aching again, but those things seemed unimportant.

   He cleared his throat and dropped his hand, and concentrated on bringing back a small, sly kind of smile. ‘Well you’re the nurse. Wanna take a look at it for me?’

   Hoseok stared at him, his lips forming a small _o_. Perhaps he’d finally figured out that Kihyun was angling for _more than friendly_. ‘Um… I mean - ’ his cheeks turned pink. ‘I mean sure. I’m not fully _qualified_ yet though and - ’

   ‘I’m sure you’ll do just fine.’

   Hoseok let out something dangerously close to a nervous giggle. The sound was music to Kihyun’s ears. He wasn’t soft, he’d never wanted to _be_ soft, but he _liked_ soft. Especially in guys. The cuter the better.

   ‘I live just down the road,’ said Kihyun. ‘You can… take a look at it there.’

   ‘I don’t… I don’t go home with guys I _just_ met,’ Hoseok said quietly, and Kihyun thought he heard a glimmer of regretful disappointment in his voice. ‘But if you want to drop by the minor injuries department then I could _definitely_ have a look at it there, and - ’

   Kihyun sighed, not afraid to show _his_ disappointment. People always called him an open book.

   ‘But, well, you can… you can have my number,’ continued Hoseok, and Kihyun’s head snapped back up. ‘You know, in case you wanted me to take a look some _other_ time.’

   Kihyun bit his lip for a second, then smiled. He didn’t usually _take numbers_. His idea of a good night was a one-time-thing or nothing at all. But there was something about him that was too charming to turn down. ‘Okay. Cool. I’ll text you next time I’m in need of medical assistance.’

   ‘Will I have to wait long?’

   Kihyun laughed and took one more look at his bloodied knuckles. ‘Not long at all,’ he said. It was as much a truth as a flirtation. ‘I might even call you in the morning.’

   ‘It’s already morning,’ said Hoseok. He was right. If they messed around like this any longer, the sun would be starting to rise.

   ‘My favourite part of the day,’ he replied. It was always darkest, just before the dawn. That was when the city slept. That was when Kihyun could move around without people staring at him because of a bruised face or a bandaged hand. ‘But I’ll give you time to sleep before I call. Four hours at least.’

   ‘Oh no! I need eight or I can hardly _function_ , and - ’

   ‘Six, then. I’ll wait six hours, Hoseok.’

   He liked the way that the name tasted on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/squishytyongie)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone <3 Thank you all so much for your comments on the first chapter! It's so exciting to be writing for a new fandom and knowing people are reading it. I'm on a bit of a writing hiatus at the moment to concentrate on my career so I'm sorry for the slow updates but I love this fic, it's my favourite way to procrastinate, so here we are. May x

   Kihyun grappled with the lock on his apartment door. It needed fixing, but he could never seem to find the time to call out a locksmith. They’d probably want to replace it with some kind of fancy coded entry, anyway, and he didn’t want that. He preferred the security of knowing his key was in his own hand.

   When he eventually shouldered the door open, and shuffled inside, he was met with emptiness.

   _Emptiness._

The room was silent, or at least it would be for a minute or two. Every seven minutes, the train that passed inches by his window would rattle past. Kihyun loved that sound. It kept the rent of the block low for the good location, and it scared people away from staying round very long. To Kihyun, now, it was a comfort, one thing that he could rely on. On the public holidays, when the train did not run, he found himself listening out for its familiar call.

   The room was silent, and it was dark. The only light was a glow of blue just below his half-drawn blinds because the convenience store on the ground floor kept its neon sign on all night. He reached for the switch on the wall and waited for a second until the bulb overhead sputtered into life. It wasn’t a bare bulb, but the paper shade had seen better days. That would need replacing too.

   The room was silent, and it was dark, and it was painfully empty. There was no person to come home to; nobody said _hello_. Kihyun had thought more than once that maybe he ought to get a dog or a cat or something. But he wasn’t sure he’d be able to take care of anything. He could take care of himself, but that was all he really had time for. And he’d always been more of a destroyer than a caretaker.

   He threw down his bag and held up his hand to take a better look at his wrist in the light. It needed treating. The hand especially. The wrist would probably want a doctor to look at it, and that wasn’t going to happen. Doctors always started asking questions.  He could take care of his knuckles, though.

   At his desk, he set down his new purchases and reached for his first aid box. It was rather more substantial than the average band-aids and painkillers that most people kept around the house.

   The pattern was something that he was used to: treat with peroxide, clean with alcohol, wash with cold water, treat with antiseptic, wrap with bandage. He bound his knuckles and flexed his fingers. A bolt of pain ran from his thumb to his wrist. On the desk, he left strewn a bundle of gauze soaked red with blood. It was not like anyone would come knocking.

  There wasn’t much to be seen in the apartment. Two rooms made up the main body of it, and he’d never been one for fancy furnishings. He had a desk, and a tiny kitchen that allowed enough space for a microwave at least, and a couch with a low coffee table opposite a slightly outdated television. In the other room, not much could be accommodated apart from his bed, and a tiny set of drawers in which he crammed his clothes.

   It was enough.

   He dropped down onto the couch and uncapped the bottle of whiskey he’d left against one of the cushions the previous night. He’d drink a fifth before he could sleep properly – after fights, his adrenaline stayed high for too long to allow for genuine rest. The thought crossed his mind that he could turn on the TV to fill the silence, but he decided against it.

   He took a swig of whiskey, and then spat it out with a wince when the pain hit.

   _‘Fuck_ ,’ he muttered. A blow to the face earlier must have left him with a cut because all of a sudden his mouth was filled with the metallic flood of blood. He closed his eyes, and thought of Hoseok.

   _Hoseok_.

   Should he call him in the morning?

   It had seemed like a fun idea down in the pharmacy, but now he had a mouthful of blood and the stark reality of his apartment plummeted him back down to earth.

   _Bad news_.

   Kihyun was bad news.

   That was what his school principal had called him when he’d been expelled at the beginning of his junior year. That was what his mother had called him when she’d thrown him out two months later.

   Kihyun was bad news, and a student nurse with a smile as bright as Hoseok’s did not deserve that.

   Kihyun did not hate himself, at least not all of himself, not in the crippling self-loathing sort of way, but there was a _side_ that he hated. The chemical crash after the adrenaline of the fight, combined with the alcohol, contributed unpleasantly to the feeling that took hold of his brain.

   Well, chemistry and the reality of the blood in his apartment. It wasn’t irrational to think of himself that way. In fact, he thought it was _very_ rational.

   _Bad news._

Good people could not be invited in while that side of himself remained just like his apartment: silent, dark, and painfully empty.

   He pulled out the crumpled receipt on which he’d written Hoseok’s number, and he tore it into shreds.

*

   ‘ _How about Saturday? I’ve got this kid visiting from down south, reckons he’s some kind of prodigy. Personally I think he needs a lesson in -_ ’

   ‘No,’ Kihyun cut in, without hesitation. He looked up to meet the eyes of the cashier serving him at the same time and mouthed an apology for the utter obnoxiousness of talking on his phone simultaneously. He hated himself for it. ‘Hyunwoo, I told you, I can’t. My wrist’s busted up. Bad. I need some time out.’

   ‘ _How much time_?’ Hyunwoo’s voice didn’t sound irritable, but rather… concerned. Kihyun hoped it wasn’t concern for his _wellbeing_ , because if Hyunwoo went soft on him he’d have to accept that he was a friend instead of an employer, and Kihyun didn’t like allowing people that kind of access.

   ‘As long as I can live off my last paycheque for,’ he sighed. He handed over his notes to the cashier. It did not escape his notice that her eyes lingered on his bruised, bandaged hand a little too long. ‘I’ll give you a call in a couple of days.’

   ‘ _I’ll call first,’_ said Hyunwoo. ‘ _Check in on you_.’

   ‘Fine,’ Kihyun sighed as he hung up his phone and shoved it into his pocket. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, ‘you must hate dickheads who talk on the phone.’

   The cashier raised her eyebrows at him in genuine surprise, and then she gave him a weak shrug that told him she hated her job far more than he hated his.

   When he had packed up his groceries, he shuffled back out into the street. He did not walk the same way in the daytime as he did at night. At night, he was confident, upright. During the day, he closed in on himself more – he did not enjoy being noticed.

   Kihyun thought that you could tell a lot about someone by their grocery shop.

   There were people who bought only ready meals and popular brand chocolate, and then there were fitness freaks who bought chicken breasts and two dozen eggs. He found himself nosing into their trolleys whenever he visited the store, a habit that he could not help. There were people who shopped cheap, store-brand food and booze in a box, and then there were people who shopped expensive, with fucking… pre-prepared dips and fresh herbs.

   There were people whose baskets made him smile, and others that made him sad.

   He wondered what people would think of _his_ shopping. He liked to think that he was difficult to read. There was protein, alright, and enough green to keep him healthy, but there was also a bottle of whichever poison was on offer and a selection of cakes from the reduced aisle.

   _Yes_ , he hoped he was unpredictable.

   He glanced down at his phone when it rang again, and he stepped off the thoroughfare of the street and into a store doorway.

   ‘Yeah?’ he said, as soon as he picked up. No one ever called Kihyun who warranted, or _deserved_ , politeness.

   ‘ _Alright, mate? It’s Jaesung._ ’

Kihyun’s stomach gave an uncomfortable twist. ‘I’m fine. You?’

   ‘ _Yeah, good mate! Good!_ ’

   ‘Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon,’ he said.

   ‘ _Something came up. Date’s changed for this month. Next Friday.’_

‘Can’t do it,’ said Kihyun. Something acidic hit his throat. ‘My hand’s busted up and - ’

   ‘ _We’ve known each other too long to fuck around with excuses, Kihyun. Next Friday, usual time and place_.’

   ‘It’s not enough time, I can’t work right now, I - ’

   He held out his phone as the line cut, and he resisted the urge to toss it to the concrete. He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled slowly. With his free hand, he stretched out his fingers, and focussed in on the strain of his wrist.

   If he fought again now, he’d fuck it up worse.

   There wasn’t enough _time_.

   He cursed as he stepped back out onto the street. _Bad timing_. Always bad timing.

   He trudged down the sidewalk, without purpose but without hesitance. He did not take up too much room, but he did not give way, either. No, people moved out of his path. Hood up, head down. It was a look that he knew gave him an air of unpredictability, and that was why people gave him a wide berth.

   Bad timing.

   Bad _timing_.

   ‘Kihyun?’

   His eyes snapped up.

   Bad _fucking_ timing.

   He met the familiar, warm eyes, and he allowed his gaze to slide over every feature. It had been three days since he’d met Hoseok in the pharmacy, but there could be no mistaking him. A nervous butterfly took flight in Kihyun’s stomach; he wasn’t sure he liked that.

   ‘It is you!’ Hoseok exhaled. ‘I – you didn’t call.’

   Kihyun looked down awkwardly at his shoes. They were worn black combat boots with steel toes. ‘Nah, I – I didn’t,’ he said. What could he say? That it was dangerous for Hoseok to be anywhere near him? That he was _bad news_? Or should he make up some pathetic excuse that would make the sweet stranger go home wracked with insecurity as he tried to figure out the _real_ reason?

   Hoseok looked down too. Then he shrugged. ‘I thought you’d call.’

   ‘Did you want me to?’ Kihyun looked back up and caught his eyes. He refused to let them go.

   ‘I mean yeah. How often is it that you run into a handsome stranger at the pharmacy?’

   Kihyun laughed and rolled his eyes. ‘Hoseok, did you even _notice_ that I was covered in blood? That didn’t strike you as weird _at all_? Not in the slightest off-putting?’

   Hoseok seemed to consider these words for quite some time. In reality, it was probably only a few seconds, but to Kihyun it felt like a lifetime. ‘I’ve seen a lot of people covered in blood. Not a big deal.’

   There was a spark of… rebellion… in his eyes that made Kihyun’s lips twitch up at the corners. There was something about Hoseok that was not entirely cookie-cutter, and he liked it. There was something in the way that he looked at Kihyun that said that he too might have a dangerous night-time secret.

   He was no streetfighter, of course. _No_. But Kihyun could definitely see him being a stripper, or a honey-trap, or some other equally devious creature of the night. Just like him. He had potential.

   ‘I’m sorry I didn’t call,’ Kihyun said quietly. ‘I… well things have been messy. I’m messy.’

   ‘Okay,’ Hoseok smiled. ‘So… coffee?’

   Kihyun stared, and stared some more. Hoseok was unusual. He liked that. ‘Sure.’

   _Why the fuck not_?

   Destiny had brought them together twice now, and who was Kihyun to argue?

   He followed Hoseok back the same way that he had walked, because the latter seemed to have some sort of plan. _Yes,_ he was marching ahead with purpose. Kihyun admired his form from behind. He had good lines, and a frame that could have made him a decent fighter if he’d chosen that instead of healing.

   ‘You’re quite unusual, Hoseok,’ he remarked as they walked.

   Hoseok blushed a little. ‘I just don’t like to judge people before I know their story. And I really want to know yours.’

   _No you don’t_ , Kihyun thought, but he did not say anything out loud. There were things that he told no one, let alone a man that he had a definite interest in. _An interest_. It was unusual for him to have an interest in anyone in the harsh light of day; Kihyun liked the nights, when something salacious or something meaningless felt completely agreeable. Daytime meant a dose of reality, though, and Kihyun did not see people again in those conditions.

   They arrived soon at a small but acceptably chain-like coffee shop. Kihyun didn’t like fancy little independent places, where the costs were higher and the aesthetics embellished only for Instagram. He liked a reliable chain were the prices stayed cheap and the coffee tasted the same wherever in the city you were, and the staff were disinterested enough that he could pass in and out without conversation. People might say those places lacked personality, but that was exactly what Kihyun wanted.

   ‘I like this place,’ said Hoseok. ‘The barista does latte art.’

   ‘What will he make for me?’ Kihyun smiled.

   ‘Hearts. Stars. Anything you want. You don’t strike me as a heart sort of guy.’

   ‘No, I wouldn’t say I am.’

   The people that met Kihyun tended to either hate him or love him, and those of the latter were definitely in the minority. He was sarcastic, his humour dry, and he knew that a lot of the time he was rude. He could not help it. Ever since he was a kid, he’d been abrupt, and he didn’t see the point in being polite to people that he was not interested in. The people that did manage to tolerate him tended to love him, even idolise him, like Changkyun. Kihyun supposed that they thought his personality was some kind of aloof, mysterious act, rather than a side-effect of his total disinterest in most people.

   But he was interested in Hoseok.

   ‘What would you like?’ asked Hoseok.

   ‘Black filter coffee. I’ll get it,’ he added when he saw him reach into his pocket for his wallet. He wondered whether he should pay for Hoseok too. Technically he was the one who had asked him on a date that night, but technically Hoseok was the one who had asked him on a date _today._ Was it rude not to offer?

   Hoseok pulled a face of exaggerated disappointment. ‘There won’t be any latte art in _that_.’

   ‘I’ll look at yours.’ With a sigh, he stepped forwards. ‘I’ll _get_ yours,’ he said, just in case this date really was his fault.

   ‘No, no, it’s okay. I’ll get my own,’ Hoseok said awkwardly.

   They stood, side by side, as the barista looked from one to the other with the air that he would rather be anywhere else that listening to such a painful exchange. Then, Kihyun shrugged with a smile. ‘Cool.’ That was fine by him. It wasn’t like they were boyfriends. The word made him shudder, even just to think it. Kihyun had never _had_ a boyfriend. He’d never had anyone that he saw more than once. He’d never had anyone who he’d even allowed to stay until morning.

   Hoseok did show off his little foam picture for quite some time. It was a flower, but it reminded Kihyun more of star anise. He quite liked to cook, and he liked spices. He told Hoseok this, upon realising that he ought to contribute at least one topic of conversation if he didn’t want to come across like a total asshole.

   Hoseok beamed. ‘Oh really? I like to cook too! But I’m terrible at it. Actually I just like eating. Someone else can do the cooking part.’

   ‘What do you like to eat?’ laughed Kihyun, eyes on his coffee.

   ‘Anything. Except some things. I can be a bit picky I guess. But otherwise anything! I don’t really have time to eat anything on shift so when I get home I can cram eight bowls of rice without pause.’

   ‘You work long hours?’

   ‘Mmhm,’ Hoseok nodded. ‘It feels like we’re always understaffed and the shift patterns can be very hard. But it’s worth it.’

   ‘What sort of nurse do you want to be? I mean I assume there are different types of nurse?’

   Hoseok laughed softly and took a sip of his latte. ‘Sure are. I want to work in the ER. I’m good under pressure and I think those moments are so important. Not just for the patient but for the family. You’re there to make people feel okay in what might be the very worst time in their lives.’ There was a pause, then Hoseok smiled. ‘Have you ever been in the ER? I have. I broke my collarbone showing off cartwheeling when I was eleven.’

   ‘I have,’ Kihyun nodded, but he did not elaborate. It wasn’t a memory he liked to return to. ‘I bet you’ll be amazing.’

   Hoseok played with his mug and then fiddled with the small sugar packets on the table. ‘You know all sorts about me now, Kihyun, so what can I know about you? Are you at college? Or what do you do for a living?’

   The silence was too risky to drag out so Kihyun opened his mouth as quickly as possible. ‘Oh, no, no I’m not at college.’ His stomach turned over. He was not _embarrassed_ , or at least he never had been before, but suddenly he didn’t want Hoseok to know that he hadn’t even made it through high school, let alone college. ‘I – you know, I do a bit of this, a bit of that. I’m involved in…’ he reached around for something, ‘… sport.’

   ‘Which sports?’ Hoseok asked, and his voice was airy rather than interrogative.

   Kihyun sat up straighter and forced a smile. ‘Boxing.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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